


a void of silken sheets

by londer



Category: A Crown of Candy - Fandom, Dimension 20
Genre: Arranged Marriages, Campaign 05: A Crown of Candy, F/F, F/M, Marriage, Uh having to marry your dead wife's younger brother for political purposes, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25984702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/londer/pseuds/londer
Summary: Their wedding bed stretches a void of white silk between them. Cara's still in her wedding dress and Amethar his robes. They regard each other in the dim red glow of the tapered candles. There was never a moment alone to talk alone before the wedding and her stomach is a bed of coals. The noise of the merrimaking of the party that had carted them off to the royal bedchambers is receding, but it still echoes up the hall outside Amethar's room and beneath the cracks of the door. Their room now. Their bed. Their marriage.
Relationships: Amethar Rocks/Caramelinda Rocks, past Caramelinda Rocks/Lazuli Rocks - Relationship
Comments: 11
Kudos: 45





	a void of silken sheets

**Author's Note:**

> i think about that post that's like 'most teenage boys couldn't handle talking to their older sister's hot gf and amethar had to MARRY her' constantly and this has been on my to-write list for almost a month now and i finally decided to write it.

Their wedding bed stretches a void of white silk between them. Cara's still in her wedding dress and Amethar his robes. They regard each other in the dim red glow of the tapered candles. There was never a moment alone to talk alone before the wedding and her stomach is a bed of coals. The noise of the merrimaking of the party that had carted them off to the royal bedchambers is receding, but it still echoes up the hall outside Amethar's room and beneath the cracks of the door. Their room now. Their bed. Their marriage. 

She will need his help to get her dress off. It took four ladies to lace and button her in; Caramelinda is marrying the King of Candia, not the second in line to the throne, and the dress matches the circumstances. None are here to help her out of it, as it's Amethar's Bulb-given right to unwrap his new bride from her gown.

How different his hands are to Lazuli's. Lazuli's fingers had undone the hooks and stays of that first wedding dress easily, without looking, while they kissed as freely as they had wanted for such a long engagement. Lazuli's hands were warm and her calluses were soft against her skin and she moved them deliberately and exactingly both in her magics and over Cara's body.

Amethar had helped to carry her to their chambers that night, and his hands are just as wide and strong and clumsy now as they were all those years ago. He looks at her and his face is, for the first time she has ever seen it, perfectly neutral. She hates him for that. If he had pretended to love her, it would be one thing. If he had shown his revulsion, she could live with that. Instead, he stands and waits for her cue. 

She takes off her crown and places it on the bedside table. She unpins her veil. She takes off her shoes. He does not move. 

"I need help with the dress," Cara says, and is pleased that her voice does not waver. She turns and she can feel more than hear or see his bulk come up behind her. His hands are hot, warm near her skin even though he does not touch her directly. 

He's able to get the first few, but there is a mile of pearly satin buttons running down her back. Amethar huffs in frustration, and she holds in a retort. "There's so many of these," he grumbles. "I'll - I'll get them, though. I wouldn't want to ruin your dress." 

"Oh, just rip it," Cara says, forgetting herself and then remembering herself and pushing forward. "It's not like I'll ever wear it again." She'll like as not burn the damn thing tomorrow.

Amethar's hands pause between her shoulder blades and he's so quiet Cara can hear the abacus in his brain doing some math. Then, carefully and building into a rush of words, "Nobody would question heirs. I mean, nobody would ask about heirs, if I ripped your dress off you, they would see the rip and think, well, I don't mean that we should produce an heir right now tonight, but if they thought we did nobody would ask." 

It's perhaps the smartest thing she's ever heard him say, although she's not quite clear why he's trying to justify her own suggestion to her. Nobody is expecting Cara to be a blushing virgin at her second wedding, and a ripped dress reflects more on Amethar than it does on her. 

"Do it," she says firmly. His knuckles graze against her spine as he slides his hands under the fabric to grip it and then there's the scrich of tearing fabric and a cascade of buttons spill across the floor. Cara holds the front of the dress to her chest, looks over her shoulder at Amethar to meet his nervous eyes. She can feel his hands tugging confused at her corset lacings. "Cut the stays." He produces a knife and slices through the ties of her corset and her ribcage expands and fills with air. "I can get the rest from here." 

He retreats back to his side of the bed and she shuffles to the dressing table where a maid has left her a nightie. It's sheer and lacy but it'll do for tonight. She changes swiftly but there are still many layers to be rid of and by the time she turns back Amethar is stripped bare to his chest in a pair of sleep trousers. 

"I don't have a shirt," he says, and her world pitches. Lazuli had said that to her, once, not on their wedding night but during their honeymoon tour, but when Lazuli had said it it was licentious and teasing. When Amethar says it, it is guilty and shy. 

"That's alright," she says, walks to her side of the bed. He said there would be no _heir producing_ tonight, and there is gratitude for that in her lungs and chest, despite herself. Candia needs an heir, and badly. Cara knows this, knows that this is why the wedding was rushed right along without a proper courting period or any room for objections. She also knows the hot sick dread that has lived in her neck and the base of her spine ever since the match was brokered.

They're back in their original standoff, but Cara is exhausted and Amethar is a man of his word. He won't touch her tonight, and perhaps in the morning they can finally have a weeks-overdue discussion about what this partnership is really all about. She throws back the downy comforter, blows out the candles on her side of the bed, and slips between silken sheets. The ceiling is tiled beautifully; she lies on her back to avoid seeming too hostile. 

The room dips into darkness and the bed tilts as Amethar's bulk settles beside her. His clumsy hand finds one of hers in the darkness and she can feel the bristles of his beard as he presses a soft kiss to the back of her knuckles. "Good night, my lady."

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr [here!](https://myclericalromance.tumblr.com)


End file.
